Talk of Trophies
by SugarRune
Summary: Casey and Derek have a little talk about sports ripe with double meanings and not so secret metaphors. Light implied Dasey fluffiness!


_Okay, so I suck. Let's just say, life decided I needed a break. It started with my computer going crazy and me forgetting to back up my files (lesson learned the hard way), then me getting depressed because that meant the chapter I'd finished went bye bye and all the future Dear Casey chapters I'd started work on went bye bye too and to be honest, I still haven't garnered the will to re-write them. That's not to say I won't, it's just going to take a while...a long while since other ideas have started coming and I'm really interested in pursuing. Anyways, that computer hiccupup was followed by my internet going down for a while, which was followed by severe allergies which was followed by...well, you get the picture. If it wasn't one thing it was another. But recently I've been getting some plot ideas again and originally I thought to use them to rewrite the lost Dear Casey chapters but as I started writing, I realized they didn't really fit so I just wrote them independently. This is just a little scene between Derek and Casey. I hope you like it! _

**_Disclaimer: _**I own nothing...sadly...

**Talk of Trophies**

Casey started gracefully bounding down the stairs, eager to watch a new biography on the BBC channel. She'd cleared it with the whole family and she had the whole night with the TV and the sofa blissfully hers alone. In just thirty minutes it would just be her and the world created by John Keats, poetry god. A smile settled on her lips as she pranced over the last few steps with her mind already starting to fill with Keats' beautifully written words…at least it was until she looked up and saw Derek plopped on the sofa watching football.

"Der-ek! What are you doing here?" she demanded. "I'm supposed to watch the new John Keats biography. I cleared this with everybody. Even you."

She placed a hand on her hip and fixed a glare on the back of his head.

"Relax, Princess," Derek drawled lazily, not bothering to turn around to address her. "The game will be over soon. You still have plenty of time before your stupid show."

"So typical," she muttered before marching around the sofa so she could plop down next to him.

"Wha- what are you doing?" Derek demanded, finally turning his attention briefly to Casey as she sat down.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Casey answered, making herself comfortable. "I'm sitting down."

"No. No you're not. Go away," he ordered, eyes returning to the screen in time to catch a very important pass.

"No." Casey crossed her arms over her chest and likewise switched her focus to the sport of her ex-boyfriend.

"You're going to ruin the game for me. I'll call you down when it's done so you may leave."

Casey let out an inelegant snort. "Yeah, right. Like I believe that."

"What, you don't trust me?" Derek pressed, turning back to her while the game went to a commercial.

Casey rolled her eyes. "The TV is so mine tonight. I missed the Queen Elizabeth special so you could watch your dumb monster truck thing and in exchange I get to watch my John Keats biography. And since I fully intend to collect, I will sit here through the end of this disgusting display of male testosterone you call a sport to make sure you don't try to weasel out of turning the remote over to me when it's done."

"I'm hurt that you think I'd do that," Derek smirked. He was duly impressed since that was exactly what he'd been planning on doing.

"Yeah, I'm sure you are," Casey replied with narrowed eyes. Before he could reply, she turned her head back to the TV letting him know the discussion was over; she was staying. The game returned and Derek dismissed her in his mind and football again became the only thing in the world.

They watched in silence for a few minutes before Casey couldn't take it anymore.

"I don't get it," she told him.

"Of course you don't," was his quick, dismissive reply.

"Why do they keep running back and forth? They move up, they move down. They move up, they move down. And then they all jump on top of each other. What's the point?"

Casey waited for his explanation. But after a few moments she realized that none was coming.

"Derek, tell me why." She reasserted, giving him a small nudge. Silence.

"Derek, why?" Silence.

"Derek?" Silence.

"Derek?" she repeated, this time with a light shaking of his arm. Silence.

"DER-EK!"

"What, woman?" Derek finally exploded. "Can't you see I was ignoring you?"

"Explain the game to me. And this time tell me the truth. No fling flongs or groin kicks," she warned.

"Why should I?" he demanded, never once removing his eyes from the game that suddenly got more interesting as the trailing team scored a field goal bringing them only one touchdown away from a tie.

"Because I want to understand what I'm watching," Casey explained matter-of-factly.

Derek let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "You dated Max for how long? You were a cheerleader and attended how many games? And you never bothered to learn anything about the sport?"

"It was a small oversight on my part," Casey muttered, just a tiny bit embarrassed.

"Go upstairs and look it up on the internet. Problem solved," he replied impatiently then did a silent celebratory gesture as the home team managed an interception.

"But it would be faster if you just told me," Casey retorted. Not to mention, there was no way in hell was she leaving the TV unguarded.

"There! That, what was that?" Casey exclaimed as a slow motion replay of the interception showed on the screen.

This time Derek let out a low, anguished groan and closed his eyes a moment as he decided to give in. Clearly he would get no peace until he answered some of her questions.

"That was an interception," he stated as though explaining to a five-year-old. Which, when it came to Casey and sports, wasn't really that off the mark. "The team on defense managed to steal the ball from the team on offense."

"Oh okay." Casey thought it over then added, "And that's allowed?"

"Of course. It's like life Casey," Derek explained. "If someone has something you want, in this case the football and someone else, like say a rival or in this case the opposing team, has it and lets their guard down or makes a bad pass, you have every right to steal it."

"That's barbaric, Derek," Casey concluded.

"That's sports, Casey," he rebutted, giving extra emphasis to her name as she had done with his.

"And apparently, that's also life…with Derek. I'm assuming all this also goes along with your whole 'Derek gets what Derek wants' philosophy." She twisted her mouth in a sign of disgust to show her disapproval.

"Of course." Derek turned to give her a "Duh" look. Casey rolled her eyes and focused again on the TV screen.

"Okay, so what are they doing now? What's that guy in the middle doing?"

"That guy in the middle would be the quarterback," he answered. Resigned, Derek figured it'd be easier to just answer her questions so he could at least half focus on the game.

"Like Max," she concluded happily.

"Yeah. Like Max." Derek bit out and rolled his eyes.

"Hmm, so what are they doing? What are those things he's calling out?" Her brow furrowed a little in concentration as she tried to decipher the cryptic words of the quarterback.

"Plays!" Derek exclaimed in frustration. "He's calling out plays."

"Oh." She wanted to ask what the plays meant but clearly Derek was losing patience so instead she drew up one leg and tucked it in under her while she let the other one start tapping up and down.

The rhythmic shaking of the sofa was annoying him more than Casey's incessant questions. He knew exactly what she was doing and he had had every intent of ignoring her but there were just a few plays left in the game and he couldn't take it anymore.

"He was telling them what to do," he finally blurt out. "Their strategies, their moves. Whatever you want to call them. He was telling them who should go where and who should do what."

"Oh, I see," Casey replied, unable to keep the triumphant smile off her face. "So Max's position as the quarterback is kind of like yours as the team captain of the hockey team."

"Yeah. Sort of," he grumbled. Silently he added, _No way in hell am I anything remotely like Max._

"So your whole 'life is sports' analogy works here too right," Casey pressed. Football in and of itself had long bored her but she found herself genuinely interested in Derek's warped view of the world.

"It's simple, Case. Natural leaders, such as myself, call the shots and our soldiers help us accomplish our target or objective. I.E. the goal or touchdown."

"Why does it all sound so military-like? That just makes it sound even more like caveman mentality."

"Because it is a war, Casey. You out think your enemy, stay two or three plays ahead of them, anticipate their moves and then crush them on your way to sweet, sweet victory."

"So that's how guys view life and sports? It's all about you versus your enemy? One giant blood thirsty competition?" Casey was amazed at this insight into how the male brain worked. Although, now that she gave it a second thought, this was all coming from Derek so she probably shouldn't put too much stock into it.

"How else would it be, Casey? Why do anything if you aren't there to win?"

"Okay, what about that last prank war with Max and the football team?"

"What about it?" Derek asked offhandedly, not really wanting to revisit that unfortunate incident.

"Well, if I recall, no one really won it. You guys hit a stalemate at the end," she reminded him with a smug grin. "According to you, it's either win or go home. So where did that fit into your theory?"

"Technically, we won," he insisted defensively. "If you base it on pranks alone, clearly there was no contest."

"Okay, fine," Casey relented then tried a different approach. "But what was the point? What did you win exactly?"

Casey momentarily shifted her attention back to the screen as Derek jumped up to his feet and did a little, from what Casey could deduce, victory dance.

"Like them," she continued, motioning to the winning team now being interviewed, "what exactly is the point? What do they win?"

She turned back to look at him as she awaited his response, though, truth be told, watching Derek do his victory dance was almost too painful to watch.

Finished with his little fanboy display and remembering that Casey would probably use it against him in the near future, he returned his attention to her and pasted a condescending smirk on his face.

"What did they win?" he repeated her question in disbelief. At her nod, he continued. "You mean besides the fame, the money and the endorsement deals? They won what we won when we beat the football team in that prank war."

"And that was?" Casey pressed.

"Bragging rights," Derek paused for dramatic effect and beamed her his smirk at full wattage. "And a trophy."

He walked around to the back of the couch as her brow scrunched in confusion at his words.

"But you didn't win a trophy," she reminded him.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear and he heard her breath catch as he asked, "Oh, didn't I?"

He let out a snicker as he dropped the remote onto her lap, and pressed a quick kiss into her hair while giving it a playful tug to snap her out of her shock. He was filled with immediate and overwhelming self-satisfaction when he noted that the TV didn't switch over to the BBC channel until well after he had made it to the top of the stairs.

Derek concluded that he liked trophies very much indeed as he let himself into his room and shut the door behind him.

--

So that was _Talk of Trophies_. It was just a quick little story I hope you liked. I'm a little rusty, so bear with me. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.


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